


Lift Your Spirits

by Blue_Pandas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barebacking, Don't copy to another site, Dubious Consent, Ghost Sex, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Pandas/pseuds/Blue_Pandas
Summary: Harry moves into his new flat. It's already occupied.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 14
Kudos: 570





	Lift Your Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> beta read by mith!

Harry dropped his bag into his new home and exhaled loudly. He had expected such a cheap flat to fall apart the moment he stepped in, but the walls were pristine, and the furnishings were clean and fresh. This place’s going price should have been double what he was paying, and Harry was going to kill anyone who tried to take it away from him.

His new job officially started the next day, and it was already late. He thankfully hadn’t had much to move, and he only arrived in the city in the afternoon. The sun burned bright, and he was soaked in sweat. Harry stepped into the small private bathroom and started running water slightly cold to the touch. He stepped out to unpack a nightshirt. When he re-entered the bathroom, the mirror was bloodstained and the water was lightly steaming.

 **GET OUT** , it read.

Harry checked the water. Hot, almost too hot to bear. “Just the way I like it,” he said cheerfully. “Thanks!”

He stripped and sank into the water, relaxing in the warmth. In front of him, the bloody words started dripping down. Harry made a mental note to get one of his old, worn shirts that should have been thrown away two years ago to clean the mirror. His eyes drifted shut, and he sank deeper into the water.

A hand wrapped around his cock, and Harry jerked awake. No one was there, but there was most definitely a stranger’s hand jerking him off. Harry moaned and thrust a little into the rough, calloused hands. The hand left his cock and pressed his abdomen down.

Harry got the message. Stay still or they would stop. A moment of practicality hit him, and Harry wondered if he should want the invisible hand to stop. But it had been so long since he’d had sex with anyone but his own hand, and he was more than interested in involving someone else. Harry gritted his teeth and forced his hips down.

The hand resumed its attention on his cock. Harry choked back a shout as a finger dug into the slit, sending pain-pleasure through his system. His legs were pulled up, and another hand prodded his arse. Fingertips traced his rim, making goosebumps rise up on his arms. He bore down on the hand, trying to get a finger in him.

The hand slid two lubed fingers into his arse, striking his prostate head-on. He had a brief rational thought of _what kind of waterproof lube were they using?_ before the fingers chased away any though but a need for _more_. The hands moved simultaneously, finger-fucking him and jerking him off right until he reached the edge. 

Suddenly they stopped, and Harry let out a stream of curses. The invisible hands pulled him out of the water with inhuman strength. His erection bobbed angrily, desperate for attention it didn’t receive.

A towel wrapped around Harry, drying him rapidly before hanging itself back on the rod. The invisible force pushed him towards the back into the bedroom. He landed faceup on the bed and felt hands yank his wrists over his head. Bonds made from his discarded clothes held him to the headboard. Harry waited for the being to return.

Nothing else happened. Harry could feel his erection poking at the covers and his exasperation building up. “Really?” he demanded at the ceiling. “You’re going to leave me like this?”

No response, but a force pushed a pillow under his arse, raising him up to expose his hole. His favourite vibrator, already slicked up, floated over and worked itself inside. The ridges pressed enticingly against him, drawing out moans. Harry arched his back and spread his legs, giving it better access. It pressed itself against his prostate and turned itself on.

The vibration made him jerk and squirm, and Harry rocked his hips, trying to get some friction for his cock. “Damn you, let me come,” he pleaded. 

He heard a low chuckle in the air. The duvet rearranged itself to drape over him, wrapping him snuggly. 

Harry scowled and willed his brain to ignore his cock and the vibrator’s hum. If he was still secured to the bed tomorrow and missed work, he was going to be furious.

* * *

When he woke, Harry found himself wrapped in blankets, his arms holding the covers to his chest. He rubbed his sore wrists and rolled out of bed. There was no sign of another person in the flat, and he stumbled to the bathhouse. The mirror was clean and shiny, no traces of blood. The tub was empty and dry. Had he dreamt last night?

Harry stared at the scene for a moment before discarding the thought. He needed to get ready for work. He dressed quickly, wincing at the slight soreness in his body from carrying his heavy bags over, brushed his teeth, and left his flat.

Outside, he ran into someone. “I’m so sorry,” Harry cried as he stumbled back into his door.

“Not a problem,” the man said, rubbing his forehead with a wince. “You’re the newest tenant?”

“Yeah. Harry Potter.”

“Cedric Diggory. I didn’t realize that they’d find someone to take the flat so quickly. Hopefully, you’ll last longer than the last one.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she left after a night. Something about ghosts.” Cedric let out a chuckle. “Weird, right? But we always seem to have people leaving quickly for all sorts of reasons.”

Harry grinned. “I don’t plan on leaving. I’ll see you around, but I’ve really got to run. Sorry again!” He darted down the stairs and out the door.

*

Harry returned from work even more sore and exhausted. Paperwork was a killer, and working for the fey meant he had to scrutinize all the contracts for loopholes and traps before signing his life away. His _brain_ hurt, and all he wanted was to lie down and rest his mind.

In the flat, he changed out of his work clothes into a loose T-shirt with more holes than cloth and soft, worn pyjama bottoms. Harry flopped onto the bed face down and sighed as the darkness blocked out the world.

Suddenly, hands pushed his T-shirt up. Before Harry knew what was happening, his shirt was over his head, a makeshift bondage around his wrists holding his arms over his head. The hands drifted down his bare back, fingernails dragging along his spine. Harry whimpered and tried to pull away, but he couldn’t get enough leverage to move his body.

The hands reached his pyjamas and dragged the cloth slowly down his legs, exposing him to the cool air of his flat. A sudden heat engulfed his cock. Harry moaned as the mouth sucked vigorously, tongue tracing the slit and throat swallowing the pre-come. The mouth deep throated him in a sudden move, and Harry tried not to thrust into the tightness around his cock, not wanting to choke the other person.

The mouth pulled off and it was replaced by a metal band, tight enough to hold off an orgasm. “Bastard,” Harry gritted out.

A sudden smack against his arse made him jolt. No name-calling then.

They pressed a familiar hard blunt head to his hole and pushed in slowly without warning. Harry was still loose from being fingered yesterday, but the thick cock still burned on the way in. It stretched him better than the fingers had. Gods, Harry had missed the feeling of being well-fucked. Returning to live with his parents after uni had been a truly celibate life.

The being inserted their cock to the hilt, body pressing against Harry’s back. “Tom,” a masculine voice drawled next to Harry’s ear. “That’s the name you’ll be screaming.”

“I’m not the screaming type,” Harry gasped out. “You’ll have to work for it if you want me to say your name.”

Tom chuckled and withdrew, leaving Harry feeling empty for a second before slamming back in, hitting his prostate head-on. A hand came around his body to tug on his cock and tease his balls in between thrusts. Harry tried to move in time with the thrusts, but Tom’s weight kept him pinned, and all he could do was lie there and let the being fuck him out of his mind. He came with a groan, spilling inside Harry. Come trickled out as Tom withdrew his cock slowly.

“I used to fear death,” Tom said conversationally as he rolled off to the side, “but when I died, I found out that it has its benefits.”

“Like what?” Harry asked, trying to ignore his throbbing erection.

“No refractory period.” Hands pulled Harry up to a sitting position over Tom’s lap, positioning him right over a hard cock. “Now be a good boy and ride me. If you make it good for me, I might let you come.”

“Arsehole,” Harry muttered and winced as a hand pinched his side harshly.

“For that, you can enjoy this.” The band around his cock started vibrating, and Harry choked on his retort.

* * *

There was something to be said about marathon sex, Harry thought as he laid on the bed, a cool washcloth wiping the dried come from his body. He had completely forgotten about the contracts and the fey and, honestly, pretty much anything except for how much he wanted to come. The cock ring still held his erection captive, and every time he reached down to remove it, the damn thing had _shocked_ him, sending a painfully pleasurable jolt through his cock. At least it had stopped vibrating after the fourth round.

Hands traced his puffy, swollen hole. “No tearing,” Tom mused. Fingers wiped a soothing cream over his rim, and Harry spread his legs slightly to give Tom better access. Suddenly, two fingers slid into him, brushing his prostate. It was almost too much, veering closer to pain than pleasure, and Harry bucked into the sheets, trying to get away. 

Tom’s other hand came around to stroke Harry’s cock firmly, adding even more to the over-stimulation. The gods cursed cock ring came to life once more, sending intense vibrations through him. Harry buried his head into the pillow, trying to muffle his cries, but an invisible force pulled his head back.

“Let me hear you,” Tom ordered.

“Please.” The word finally fell out of Harry’s mouth, his voice ruined.

“Please what, darling? Use your words.” His hands teasingly twisted the cock ring, Tom knowing exactly what Harry wanted. The vibrations jumped up in intensity, and a shout escaped Harry’s throat as he clawed at the bedding.

“Please, please, please, let me come.”

“Who do you want to make you come? Who controls your orgasms? Who gets to decide when or if you come or if you’ll be kept on the edge for months?” A particularly vicious thrust against his prostate drew another cry out of Harry’s mouth.

“You. Tom, please. Make me come.” Harry panted desperately as he writhed in place, unable to escape the exquisite pain-pleasure that threatened to push him over the edge if not for the damn cock ring.

Tom chuckled. The blasted thing disappeared suddenly. Another stroke of his cock made Harry come harder than he had ever come before.

Harry collapsed into the bedding, exhausted and worn out, his muscles replaced with jelly.

Tom withdrew his fingers and released his cock. Just as Harry was about to fall asleep, a cold metal blunt head pressed against his hole. Tom pushed the toy in without hesitation. When it filled Harry completely, the toy started vibrating against his prostate too fast and too much.

“Now, let’s see if we can make you come again,” Tom said.


End file.
